Still in love,
with his eyes, he asks
(as the moon asks the earth)
for a dance, spinning
to music only we can hear.
Two become one in song,
as in the infancy of marriage -
newlyweds who danced, all for love.
With his eyes, he asks
(as the river asks the grass)
for a hand to hold, swaying
side-by-side over ages
of profuse weeds thick with lace,
and the sunflowers nearby droop
late in season, heavy with seed.
Before first snow, it is time
to teach our children to dance.
Love, we have learned, will carry on.
Still in love,
with my heart, I reply
(as the cherry blossoms answer the wind)
in a twirl of my floral skirt, growing
young again with a twinkle of hazel
skies shone bright in my eyes
and in a familiar smile.
He feels my warmth without seeing my face,
our union completed without words.
And so, we dance
from wedding day kiss and
one day, into bliss of heavenly light
(as the universe dances, eternally).
I write him a poem to thank him
for creating music with his love,
only our feet recognize.
Still joined in life, souls flow
through green, through our limbs,
down into our roots -
a dance to last through sun and storm,
feet in time forevermore,
all because he asked,
and still, I love him.
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2017
See it there
in virgin perfection.
Open its pages.
They are so white
that they radiate light.
See the magic pen
sitting by the book
meant just for two.
Each of you - together -
Reflect the pages’ light!
Then with the pen,
you may write
your beautiful life,
for this is
the Book of Love.
March 31, 2017 for the Book of Love Contest of Rick Parise
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2017
With my soul at peace and my thoughts at rest,
standing in this winter wilderness,
I whisper words of heartfelt bliss.
Come with me and walk this path.
Together we tread against the freeze,
and find the warmth of tender grasp.
My devoted being shall forever be,
a place of strength against chilled winds,
a brilliant light only you have seen.
Our lives have met in this quiet space.
Let sky meet land and rivers merge.
Forever, harmony I long to taste.
We have summoned light from darkest days.
Heat returns to melt still ice.
Each day length now brings stronger rays.
The deepest snows cannot hide the facts.
Beneath these layers life holds fast.
Newfound joys spring from bleakest past.
Let's rebuild life from broken dreams,
Where life restarts with each new spring,
the snows will melt to feed fresh streams.
Like this land, my passion runs free.
Walls have come down with earnest words.
My unblinded eyes now see.
I ask for your hand without ounce of gold,
or shiny stones dug from filthy earth.
My eternal love cannot be bought or sold.
Under peaks reborn of volcanic scars,
In night's serene and starkest silence,
I pledge love to outlast the multitude of stars.
Solitude I turn from on this ride.
Today and tomorrow let's walk in stride.
Promise to be my utopian bride.
Copyright © Wayne Hill | Year Posted 2013
Abed this angelic night bound by quiescent beauty,
yearned thoughts of whence the birth
of our yester-years proclaiming
loves first scene waltzes
through thy interior
monologue. In great
measure is our
kiss miles away
on the outskirts of
different land. Persuading
life on end to amble
midst ninth cloud holding
hands. Oh how this
as treasures in
favor of thy last name.
Enraptured at moment is
her warmth skin embraced
with mine...(SIGH) Fingers extend,
tracing single by single the tears about thy face...knowing that love at last
came upon its indissoluble place. Thank you God for orchestrating our lives this way.
Read about Poem
Copyright © Pace INK-U-SCRIPT | Year Posted 2014
“I’m not a machine, you know.”
He says huskily
As she places her chocolate tipped breast
Within inches of his lips
She just smiles, breastfeeding him
And leans back and sighs
As he gorges
On creamy chocolate ecstasy
Later, he wonders
About his insatiable wife
Wondering if he can keep up
With her little bedroom games
And trips into fantasy
He lies back in the
Exhaustion of fulfillment
About to close his eyes
When he hears her weeping
Trying to stifle her sobs
Should he pretend he doesn’t hear?
He is so tired
She quiets down
And before sleep claims him
He hears her whisper
“When you make love to me
That’s the only time
The only time….
You really SEE me
For those few moments
I feel that your world revolves around me
That you NEED me
To be fulfilled
The only time
You're the man you used to be
The one dying to possess me
And so I prostitute my love for you…
Hoping in these moments
Before he can respond
And he looks up at the ceiling and wonders
How life has changed him
His other friends complain
About their frigid wives and dull lives
So unlike his
He is fortunate
He remains in bed
Staring at the ceiling
She cries softly on the couch
Feeling broken, used
Just a receptacle for his need
While she remains empty
She fingers her phone
Thinking of the invitation there
A shared cup of coffee
Nothing more, and yet
She reads the real invitation
In the depth of his eyes
When he looks at her
She wipes her tears as she thinks of fidelity and promises…
He walks into the living room
She tries to cover her body
With her red see through lingerie
Her black hair covering her mascara streaked eyes
He kneels down in front of her
Pushing away her hair
His eyes searching hers
And holding them for a moment
Tilting her chin up, his lips cover hers
With a gentle longing
She gasps for breath
Shocked at the tears gathering in his eyes
His voice barely reaches her ears…
“Will you be my wife?”
She tries to draw him to her
But he takes a hold of her outstretched hand
And helps her to her feet
Gently leading her to the bedroom
And night turns to day
As he makes love to his wife
Satiating her soul
Realizing her every fantasy
He says all the things he’s felt, but never said
As he ravishes her…
His woman, his bride, his wife
The mid-morning sun
Caresses her face
And she awakens
To find herself
Where she’s always longed to be…
In her husband's arms
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013
Today’s wind shifts too fast like a tangle
of invisible lint…perhaps dust, quivering
unto fissure of grass where my heart scrapes,
as if the air denies unanswered questions
so blatantly howling about
a litany's crushed promise. Wired thoughts
rip my tulip bouquet now strewn
on the wayside of angst: how mute hymns
from an aborted vow silences a decorated aisle
on this day, this fateful day.
I turn celibate much like a virgin nun,
in front of an altar… half-empty now,
that my pain grates the most benevolent
of flowers, chafed by a drooping night
that has no syllable for me…for on this day,
a deserted betrothal leaves me
hanging , hanging on a church loft.
i’ll never know the why of an insidious choice;
except in his runaway scheme,my eyes
grow blank…tweezed iodized entombed.
Somehow, it is freezing now; a candle in prayer
burns an espousal gown;
i have never heard a more immense cold than this.
Free Verse Contest for Charlotte Puddifoot
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2016
Decades stretched a cord, across years,
up the stairs, and around chairs
coiling beyond the door of one small room,
groomed by the sun, of a Saturday afternoon...
I am floating on a sea of a hardwood floor
Prone, on my back, upon a lavender rug
Examining the nail of my left hand thumb
with a phone at my ear, a smile on my face
while you've glady expressed, how you've aced an exam
I confess how I've missed holding your hand
only linked to your kiss, by a small ivory phone
With a ring on my finger, to bind young love
Blinded in the eyes, from an innocent throne
Invitations in the mail, and a church on hold
There was a cake on order, and a brand new world
You were glued to my ear, I was wrapped by a cord
that tugged on the wall, with long-distance words
Light from the yard is scored by the blinds
but, there on the floor, prone on my back,
I'm bound by the cord that tethered our lives
Linked to your voice, where a future was wound
Hovering over the sea of cold hardwood,
I had a pillow of shag, of that lavender rug
The days would stretch shorter and our vows, on hold
till the cord became stronger, watching years unfold
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013
Spring comes, cool breeze flow
conveying the message of peace
with a pleasant and perfumed blow.
Flowers blossom with redolent fumes.
Butterflies worried for their marriage
inviting friends,with paused tune.
Linda, Sandra dress up nice,
Jean, James come with smile,
Andrea, Anne please come in time,
Devnath, don't forget your camera mobile.
Let us rush to Laila Garden, to enjoy
the decoration arranged by spring
the fragrance, main dish of party
served by pleasant wind.
Come with me to bless the couples.
Flowers are brides, butterflies are grooms.
Grass hoppers are there
to welcome us, with melodious tune.
As a beautiful tent, trees stand strong
wearing emerald crown.
To ensure our comfort, earth covered it's surface
with carpet of grass, mild golden green.
I know, you all came with gift
to show your stardom.
Don't worry, I am here
please handed it over to me
without any confusion.
Written on 29th April, 2016
Copyright © Manmath Dalei | Year Posted 2016
Yesterday sent its regards in a farewell
A gesture of fate intact, sealed for the
Or better yet, the progressive harmonies
of God, such as we are.
It was perhaps the plot of the universe,
When we slept in yesterday’s hands,
And I asked you the question of
In hopes of fading away mutually, after one
Heaven must have spied on my everlasting
Because with your pearl vision directed
And your soft veil of ebony near me,
You agreed, with no hold of hesitation.
So under the chapel’s protection is where
we coast now,
And a road less traveled is scattered with
While I did lead with company, along this aisle
The stares of 1000 miles did not present themselves,
Until your walk was introduced, thereby polishing
this floor into glory.
As I stood in the patience of joy, a distance was
illustrated between us,
You pressed forward and this negative space lost
As you approached with the tranquil touch of
My nerves fell sober, and I knew that which was
parallel before me was art,
The speechless beauty, I favored in sight.
The preacher spoke a traditional verse, as our
eyes locked in perfect reflection;
Declared through spoken word, was the
confirmation of our ribbon in the sky,
Crowned upon your precious finger was the
weight of symbolism,
Silently glowing through the everglades;
With no restriction, we explored the middle
ground in unison.
We exited through the heart of the sun, cherishing
the unfamiliar heat;
It appears that life’s divine notary has signed off
on the greatest equation ever solved,
May our souls forever write in this blessed ink.
Copyright © Jiril Clemons | Year Posted 2013
A whirlwind romance, so many feelings…
Dancing around my heart, so thrilling.
I said “I love you” first and felt a little vulnerable…
Finally, he said it too and I felt incredible.
We held hands every night, kissed and whispered…
All about our thoughts and passions, ideas and inspirations.
I began to feel a part of me was missing without him….
And he said he felt the same way I did, fully content with me.
A million words later, past the first of the “I love you’s”….
We began to bring up the bigger questions, the kids and houses.
I told him I would be happy with three and he said one would do…
But slowly we decided on two, the perfect number for a family.
We became so close it felt like I was undressed in his sight…
Even when I was fully clothed and closing in on a fight.
The mutual trust, the bond, the feelings that corresponded…
All a part of the relationship we had grown into something special.
He said, though, that he was sure he didn’t want to marry…
I felt a little like the first girl who had ever been told this detail.
Two months into the relationship, though, he got down on his knee…
Gave me a hopeful look and spoke the words I’d been hoping to hear.
Will you marry me? He said it with a smile into my eyes.
I looked back and responded quickly,… “yes” …
This would be the beginning of a long and lasting love…
A true joy, hope and faithful love that had been sent from above.
Will You Marry Me? - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Judy Konos
Copyright © Regina Riddle | Year Posted 2014
Song of a Warrior’s Bride
He counts on me for beauty:
His eyes blurred by bloody spurts of war,
Scarred by deadly blasts of bone
And tissue, his vision marred
By chunks of men that shook him down
Into the oozing mud of sorrow,
And unscrewed the sockets of his soul,
Blasting windows that once shone luminous,
Into dark pools of madness, mocking
The watch he had to keep that night.
He stopped his ears against
The final cries of men turned babes,
Moaning for mama or a medic,
Gasping for a hand upon their head,
As prayers and curses were sucked
From bodies by the piercing blows
Of guns, while rockets puked
Hellish flames that blotted
Out the stars, until darkness
Swelled into a symphony of pain,
And his heart choked with agonies
He could not stop to heal.
I have learned to fasten his gaze
With the soft gauze of understanding,
A fabric thrown across the room,
Rich with memories between us,
Like rose petals sweetening the air.
I can still delight his eyes and lure him
From the tangled jungle pits he digs
And show him patterns of new mercies,
That reveals the hidden weaver of our days,
The keeper of our steps upon this turf
Of life, turned gentler now.
I drape and wrap, twist and thread
My warless arms around him,
Still fingering the loom of prayer.
Murmuring vows over his embattled brow,
I draw him underneath our tent, pitched
In the heat of hard fought love.
Copyright © Mary Patricia Anthony | Year Posted 2014
" one piece of diamond ring,"
leads to a milestone journey.
Written by: AiyaH De Torres
Entry for :Just Ten Words Poetry Contest by nette onclaud
** 6th place Winner**
Copyright © Aiyah de Torres | Year Posted 2014
Here I lie beside you
My heart goes thump.thump.thump.
My soul dances inside you
Reveling in the texture of your own.
Electric and flowing
The currents of our love
Glow like neon lights
Illuminating the hope in my eyes.
Though we're not moving
I feel so incredibly alive
Invincible to my past
Untouchable by all who lack
That gentle touch of when
You lean in and brush my face
Your lips grazing my skin
Softer than a butterfly.
And then you gaze into my eyes
I fall into your depths
Twirling like the autumn leaves
Melting into your smile
Your soul reminiscent of summer.
You pull me into your arms
And for a moment I'm lost
Breathless and in awe
Staring in the face of pure exquisite love
And there you are - holding it
Glowing in the moonlight of my stare.
My heart beats - its drum pounding away
Echoing a song thats lost its words
I touch your cheek and smile
My hands cant stay away
My lips s l o w l y, draw near yours
Hovering, and then -
Part, a soft warmth against them.
My eye lids pulling shut
Dragging me into a silent heaven
I pull away - and what seemed millennia
Lasted only a moment, a second in time
But this is our love
This is what you do to me
You make me invincible and fragile
Lost forever in a beautiful reverie.
Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2013
It's so easy
to play the blame game
to be unrealistically expectant
to want perfection
It's so easy
to want you to mold yourself
into my concept
of the ideal man
to fill in all the cracks
of what's broken in me
it's so easy
how often have I tried
heart and soul and mind
to be what you need
how often have I failed
to hold you together
and make you complete
that's not so easy
that's not so easy for me
I hope I finally learn
perfection doesn't exist
there is no perfect spouse
there is no perfect love
because we are not perfect human beings
we are fallible
only God is infallible
only His love is unconditional
we are imperfect beings
in an imperfect world
there is so much beauty
in the imperfection
of you and me!
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015
Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin
Whisper lies as I let you in
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail
Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2012
He had a few drinks the night before,
enough to mistake the waiter for a door.
T'would help him remember
he thought to himself,
the fun to be had in the coming of day.
He'd married a Madame
with her perfumes and pearls,
a painted smile
as he watched her walk
with first one foot
and then the next,
stepping in time to his funeral march.
They'd promised forever in those very same rooms,
with their sad yellow curtains and broken blooms.
This could have been a wedding
there were vows to make-
I, Harold, un-take June as my wife,
for better, not worse,
for richer not poorer.
With his eyes on her profile
he thought to himself
that she'd never looked more radiant
than she did today.
A few odd words and then it was done,
all i's were dotted
and the t's crossed
to pronounce them completely
un-manned and de-wifed.
“Fancy some lunch at The Ritz, my love?"
“Alright then, darling. You drive.”
Copyright © Leileah Kasperyan | Year Posted 2016
This is a poem about the future I'd love to have with the boy of my dreams.
None of this has actually happened yet (besides us falling in love with eachother) but it's how I would like it to happen.
Once upon a time, I became the luckiest girl in the world. I fell in love with a gorgeous boy with blue eyes, and he actually loved me back. He was like my prince, he treated me like his princess and would do anything for me. Today, we're united as King and Queen. It's been years, but walking down the aisle I'm still staring at the cutest, most perfect guy I've ever seen. When our lips finally meet after parting to say "I do", it tastes like Heaven.
Once upon a time, I married a gorgeous boy with blue eyes. And today, I saw those perfect blue eyes light up when he first held our little girl in his arms. She's got her Daddy's blue eyes and just a little bit of her Momma's brown hair. She's going to be spoiled and loved more than possible. She'll know we support her no matter what, and she can tell us everything. It will be perfect.
Once upon a time, one set of blue eyes became two, and we were made into a family. Now, that second pair of blue eyes is walking out the door to college, with a suitcase in one hand and a boy's hand in the other. He better love her and treat her just as well as her Daddy does.
Once upon a time, I fell in love with a gorgeous boy with blue eyes. His hair has dulled and grayed but his eyes are the same, and they've seen a lifetime's worth of happiness and love. My baby had babies with the boy she walked out the door with, and I can tell she loves them as much as we loved her. Now it's her time to live.
Copyright © Megan Devon | Year Posted 2013
Right now I respect your needs
I respect your wishes
Even though they stab
Like shards of shattered glass
Shrapnel puncturing my heart
Uneven in my thoughts
Unable to think due to a lack
A lack of function in which
My mundane self became accustomed
Expecting your love
Which right now I realize was
Disrespecting your love
Which is my life
Regardless of decisions made
Which is my life
Because of decisions made
You will be my wife until my dying day
I will fight for my life
I will go round after round
Take beating and punishment
Just for my life
Which, right now and always has been
I really need you to know
Your love Is my life
The only life I really care to know
And right now
I feel my life, your love,
Is dying slow
Copyright © Shane Hart | Year Posted 2013
The portrait of marriage a
Made from hundreds of pieces,
Large and small but all of the
A masterful way for the desired outcome
The completion of the portrayal of
A relationship, a life to last
No one has ever been blessed all
Pieces to amass
To perfection the given portrait to
Always some parts will be missing or
Not the desired ones would be in the
The portrait never gets done to
The artist’s complete satisfaction
A good artist has to keep in mind the
Should never be missed from any mosaic
Of the sort:
Trust escorted by honesty
Selfishness coupled with admiration
Sensuality tied with affection
Love united with devotion
The X factor, that the majority never
Under consideration takes:
Without it, all efforts will sooner or later,
© Demetrios Trifiatis
08 OCTOBER 2014
Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2014
Soulful eyes, warm pools of dark mystery framed by
shimmering cascades of gold, enthralled and beckoned
long before the first "Hello" led to marathon talks.
Smiling, moist, red lips lured and teased during chance
meetings ages before slender, agile bodies merged in
explosive desire; before she gazed into his eyes and
sang "We've Only Just Begun" and lovers in white lace
and tuxedo said "I do" and honeymooned in Hawaii.
Year five--the dark eyes still beckon; the golden cascades
still shine and flow; the lips--still pouty, teasing, and red--
whisper of love to him nightly.
Year ten--the golden waves are gone, replaced by the career
woman's practical bob; the once-red and alluring lips, now
often unenhanced, sweetly sing "Go to sleep, O my babies"
and describe her day. She speaks at him, eyes focused elsewhere.
He listens, his gaze directly on her, still enthralled with all
that is her world, grieving the gradual diminishing of their
world. Details of his day bounce off her retreating back.
Still, his heart is warm; his eyes, on her.
At night he reaches for her, often seeing that her eyes are closed.
posted April 25, 2016
July 8, 2017, entered in Daniel Turner's The Eyes Have It Contest
Copyright © Janice Canerdy | Year Posted 2016
Lady, with blossom buds in thy hair....
how fortuitous for me the day is sweeter
in the shade of your presence;
what tall stock thy stem, and flowered
your bulb of precious petals,
crimson as the weeping rose....
Longing thy eyes, and bright with hope
so quickly we became friends,
laughed 'til after hours,
deciding the fate of the world,
holding hands in some cozy little cafe....
quick blush smiles,
the patter of rain....
two inflamed hearts....
But she wants to know what he wants....
(he does not know) but has grown
lost in her eyes, and her 'gentile' smile
(he wanted her to be happy)....)
To adore her a little more,
before she would leave and find Prince Charming....
But she said she was an ordinary woman,
with ordinary needs....
a flower among many, waiting
for her little bumblebee;
He must take her pollen just so,
and have none other in his flight....
and rest so buzzing upon her feminine delights,
and crawl gently into her heart
the leap of a King....
what a Queen to find ----
And educate the dark of his mind,
she so easily (wonderfully)
so displayed in the simplicity of a cafe,
That her one flower among numerous found,
what a fate in the midst of romantic bloom....
but I had flown no more (with broken wing)
though buzzing, rested upon her soul
(and poised an answer of a man with ordinary needs)
(I, a little bumblebee....)
Copyright © Keith O.J. Hunt | Year Posted 2014
i sit here thinking about the days.
remembering the time we first met.
i was crying in the rain,
feeling the water and the pain.
until you came, and wiped my tears away.
you were like an angel in disguise,
you never ever fail to make me smile,
you were a stranger in my world,
but you made me realize my worth
when you touch my hand
i know that you understand.
I feel so safe whenever i'm with you,
the way you hug me tight when i feel blue.
you are just like a dream come true.
i wouldn't need anyone else but you.
and from now on i offer you my heart..
so i thank you for coming into my life,
for bringing the sunshine and making me feel alive.
you made my life complete,
baby, you're all i need
you are my missing piece.
PS:wrote this 2 years ago. i had this poem hidden and reserved for Mr. Right. :-)
Copyright © imee murillo | Year Posted 2014
Tossing and turning
not a wink of
sleep in sight
Visions of her beauty
have me thinking
Churning deep inside
She'd be my bride
She's the sunshine
that falls gently
upon my face
through my window
floating with grace
The stars in the sky
shining so bright
warm hug at night
holding me tight
In just a few hours
all dreams will come true
as I give her that ring
and we both say I do
Staring from the window
on the night before we wed
Thinking of first moments
Inhaling a deep breath
Thinking of that smile
which has captured my heart
Thinking of his tender care
A gentleman from the start
Many years I've waited
Just to watch him sleep
Just to lay beside him
Feel his toes slight-brush
with my feet
All my life I've waited
for our dream to be
At last Im gonna have him
My pearled silk gown is hanging
Tomorrow it would be worn
Before the lord, our eyes meet
the promise would be sworn
From the chapel to the gardens
Our entrance would be grand
The waxen buds will blossom
and our love would be sung
Copyright © Cupids Arrow | Year Posted 2014
Puppy Love at 55
When I am wise, I’ll turn to puppy love
With generous doses of truth and innocence, almost no shame …
“Her be my gal!” Or “Me gonna marry him, so you jus’ shove!”
Sound adorable. Singing, “He is mine. I am his. Gonna get married, take his name.”
Gone the days of horse and carriage … some sensuous songs, also silent …
At this moment I am not wise, merely older, aged fifty-five;
I make amends, enjoy each tomado-love and each new accent;
Aware of so much pain, woundings, the living-but-barely-alive
So I recall how puppy love felt like fresh air, sunshine, pure
We thought the best of belle or beau
Time never existed. No bills, diapers, nothing to insure
Slobbery kisses on ears, eyes, but unashamed, secure …
When I turned a certain age; not so young and not so pure
I thought marriage was right: seemed the way to secure
Each other in love’s embrace for children, a better future …
No regrets! But I gaze at a happy marriage in old pics now.
So I say this to all poets, painters, quaint artists, saints and sinners:
Start early with puppy love, and never give up on it;
Why discuss doubling household incomes, becoming millionaires
For such talk puts dollar signs where love was beautifully reflected!
The children may yet teach us the ways of innocence
But that is the hardest job today: among adult gadgets, to remain puppies
That lick, slobber, miss the lips and kiss the eyes or chins
And yet without shame, forgetting forbidden fruit, unblinking eyes -
(Asking questions about hair, skin, color … hugs galore, even for the different)
But as to whether I advocate divorce, May I plead the Fifth Amendment?
Copyright © Anil Deo | Year Posted 2017
Do you dare to hear this story,
listen to the rant of a cuckold tale
This story will give you nightmares
if your masculinity has begun to fail
Despondent voice of said henpecked man
was recorded secretly at a support group therapy session
He swear he loves his wife,
don't know why he picked up the knife
Says he has a wonderful life,
but something is not quite right
Then he contradicts what he just said,
the reasons why are mixed up in his head
He confess that he just wanted to scare her ...
frighten her bad
But he wasn't too convincing,
she only started to laugh
She commanded him to put the knife down,
then started to throw her 130-pound weight around
Used sex as the ultimate weapon,
said love was going out of town ... indefinitely
He said he begged like never before,
pleading with her to please don't leave out the door
Said she just slapped his pride on the backside,
told him the bank account was gonna take a nosedive
Raised her eyebrows and gave a baleful stare,
then said he was having it too good
He said when she gets to talking like that,
he's learned over time not to say anything back
Letting out a small sigh, he said
he simply becomes a docile little boy
and go sit elsewhere
Says the only time he roars like a lion,
is when she tries to take away his adult toys
Trying to stop him from getting season tickets
is gonna cause him to make a lot of noise
So she just let him be for awhile,
let him calm down ... give him a warm smile
He said being henpecked ain't so bad,
he gets his favorite meal after breaking mad
Yet and still, he seemed kinda sad
Now that the group therapy is over,
he said his wife is gonna come get him
And make a point to remind him
of how he dresses so bad
That he's such a loser, just like her dad
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017
Dear Love, I Would
By William P. Darnell Sr.
Your lips would make for a gentle kiss.
Your arms would make for a perfect hug.
Your hand would make a perfect fit for mine.
You're the one I would love having beside me now.
You're the one I would want to share my heart and
I wish I knew what I did to deserve you show up?
Because I would do it again!
©2017 | Creative Essence's Creative Writing ™ |
William P. Darnell Sr. | All Rights Reserved. |
This material may not be republished, rewritten
or redistributed without the permission of the author. |
Year Posted 2005
Copyright © William Darnell Sr. | Year Posted 2013
Cast me not away
Ye gentle soul, my love
Lead me to the beach
Where our love began and bloomed
Cradle my fragile wrists
In your strong and loving grip
Call me yours again
Bid me to you and I shall yield
Few hours to the vow
To be yours and only yours
I long to see you so
I long to hear you coo my name
Upon my pillows I lay
With tender thoughts of you and me
My gentle heart
I melt into my satin sheets
A man for me
A bride to be
My wishes never end
Alas, I hear of your trip back to town
My finest dress of lace I wear
A scent unforgettable shall steal your heart away
I lean against my window so
Knowing my gate shall be your path
I wave my hands
You smile so bright
And then the story continues to roll
By Sylvia Chika
Copyright © Sylvia Chika | Year Posted 2015
It’s not the movie ticket and popcorn
he paid for on our first date that
made me like him.
It’s not the necklace he put around
my neck on our 1 year anniversary that
made me love him.
It’s not the ring he slipped on my finger
when I said yes as he stood from his knee to kiss me that
made me realize I wanted to spend eternity with him.
It’s the way he kisses me good morning and
the way he always kisses me goodnight that
made me realize I never want to take on life with anyone else
Copyright © Morgan Hacker | Year Posted 2015
The Unsevered Bond
The rings of our past..
linger within our very being.
when African American
palms brushed the touch of
America’s broad horizon,
people cast their opinions,
cast their judgement, with
one slight glance over the shoulder.
The beautiful people..
with potential seeded in their palms,
with their rings of gold..
emanating an unfamiliar bond;
the people with eyes of
brown; from the spirals
of the wise Acacia Tree.
The ones native to the sunrise
on a bronze savanna,
their marital bond be
the love for one another, stretching deep
within the roots of
their very souls,
Beyond the War of May 9th
1865, be the elephants triumphant
cries for peace,
the sleeping Lion’s subtle grunts
for compassion and strength of the country,
a Giraffe’s hooves drumming forlornly..
that be symbolic of the rest of applauds
and beating hearts.. that are foretold to come.
of true love.
interlocked as one hand
and one soul,
With the gunfire
ablaze in the sky line,
where downy clouds
are suppose to rain.
with glaring artillery
to scorn the ground... with its
lashes of hate,
Where their be armed men,
there be hurt behind their
that throbs with suppressed tears
diluted by fear.
if a simple difference can walk in and sever
our bond so quickly, it's not the difference that walked in,
it's the cracks in the society itself, that have just begun
to show themselves.
the African Americans were the light
and we tried to decimate it..
because the light was a foreign body to us.
Consumed with hurt we were..
it seeped, then throbbed.. with the
wound of hate,
but our Countries wounds were
to easily prodded, too sensitive to be
touched by change’s
The rings of gold once parted
when met with the eyes of the South..
when envy stirred and corrupted
they tried to sever the rings of love..
or prompted them to act upon their
desire to be with one another..
to only hurt and pressure in the end
or use their gain towards profit..
by the affliction of pain and labor,
and yet the remains of the two rings
the bond still lingered on.. through
and after Gunfire came the
marriage our country bore..
The marriage of African Americans
and a new country
Copyright © Madison Demetros | Year Posted 2016
A delicate blue Daisy
Nestled between roses of pink and cream,
Held firm by pink love-in-the-mist,
Green foliage and tiny gypsophila.
Stems bound in hessian and ribbon.
Something blue in her bridal bouquet.
17th June 2017
Copyright © Elizabeth Kinch | Year Posted 2017